


No Worlds More

by WesternScribe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A touch of madness, Aftermath, Angst, Drama, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:27:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29081613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WesternScribe/pseuds/WesternScribe
Summary: They call it the War of the Last Dragons, but when it happened, it was just Daenerys the Reclaimer fighting her nephew, Aegon the True. It was of a girl who crowned herself Queen against a boy who called himself King. Those two and their war caused more destruction than myth made flesh. Those two and their war made the world stop.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	No Worlds More

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up! This is a power punch of angst. If you are easily triggered, turn back now, for there is only doom ahead.

Brienne thought the gods would be kind.

He didn't die how he told her he was supposed to, so she thought he would be spared. It was foolishness to think the gods would be kind to her now. 

_Please, not him. Not now. Not like this._

Jaime coughed, spitting blood upon his lips, his beard. Her heart sank at the sight. The liquid was so dark against his pale skin it looked black.

The arrows, two of them, stood proud and terrible from his armor, just below his ribs. _A gut wound. Gods! A gut wound!_

He laughed, such a weak laugh, touching the feathered ends with gentle fingers. "I knew it would be a blasted archer." 

His smile faded when he looked at her.

"Stop those tears, girl." She hadn't noticed she was crying. Brienne tried her hardest to steel her quivering stomach and steady her speech. 

"I am not under your command, ser." 

He laughed again, a pathetic imitation of his normal robust, nearly boisterous guffaw. She held his cheek in a delicate caress, such as she would their babe’s.

"Do not die. I will not allow it." 

"So now...," he winced, inhaled slowly, focused through a new bout of pain, "I am under your command? Is that it, my lady?" 

"You have the right of it, ser. Just hold on, I sent Pod to fetch-" 

"Hush now." His eyes blazed like wildfire, though she could tell the flames began to quiet. His eyes were breathtaking, they'd always been, but in that moment, the fact was never more true.

They were a vibrant green, like the juniper forests around her home when the sun shone through fat gray clouds between storms. Calm, peaceful, resolved; though a firmness was also present. The underlying intensity was the green of his emerald fury. 

"I can't-," a sob choked her speech. "I can't let you die." 

He smiled. "Ah, but that isn't your decision to make, you stubborn girl." 

Brienne wept more openly than she'd ever wept before. Jaime brought his hand to her cheek, her ruined cheek, and stroked it with his thumb. "Gods, you're ugly when you cry." 

She didn't have the strength to feign anger at his jest. She held his hand against her face. 

"I never told you-" 

His eyes were closed. The brows were drawn together. Will she never see his eyes again? 

"But you did." His smirk was not unkind. "You always told me you loved me when I made you come." 

"Jaime!" They were surrounded by soldiers, and most attended their own dead, but some gawked at their folly and her tears. 

"What does it matter now?" His breathing was shallow, wheezing, rattling. He looked at her again. "Brienne." More blood from his lips and his most brilliant smile. _Oh gods!_ She knew her heart would stop with his. "Keep a memory of me and dry those womanly tears, Brienne, you're a warrior. Warriors don't weep."

"I told you-" her words were incoherent sobs. 

"I know what you told me, Brienne. Do... not weep. Lean over... and kiss me." 

She leaned and she kissed him and it was much like the first time. Her heart skipped eight beats and she knew this couldn't be true. His mouth tasted metallic with his blood and his scent, his flavor, the feel of his lips against her own, his tongue running across her teeth, meeting hers too briefly. It was all much too brief. Brienne knew she'll never have this again. This will be her last kiss. 

"Jaime." Could he hear her? She could scarcely hear herself. "Jaime, please."

"You'll do well. Protect... that boy." Jaime smiled lazily, closing his eyes. His green eyes. And he was gone. 

She did not weep.

She did not wail.

Brienne held him close, her cheek against his temple, the curls of his hair, with her arms about his shoulders and chest. She held him until his cheeks lost their warmth and the blood from his lips was as cold as the snow.

Her eyes saw nothing. She couldn't look at his face, so she stared past the battlefield and the dead, into the empty whiteness of the forest beyond. Not green. White. A white forest of snow. The colour of death. And Jaime in her arms made it difficult to breathe-

Pod and Peck tried to rouse her from the ground. They spoke words that made no sense to her ears. She couldn't understand a single vowel of their speech. They left and soon Hyle came. He tried to lift her, but she struck him when he pulled her arm away from Jaime. Brienne didn't remember moving. 

The sun faded and lanterns were lit when Tyrion appeared. His face gaunt, eyes swimming in the firelight. He was silent staring at Jaime. He sat with her for a time and grasped Jaime's cold hand. 

Pale light moved fingers through the sky when finally, he spoke. "It is time, Brienne." His voice was rough, filled with the anguish she felt, and sounded like rusted nails. "It's time we moved him." 

_How can we move him? He can't walk. He'd be angry he couldn't do it himself._

Tyrion spoke again, louder this time. "We must move him Brienne!" 

He rose and left her.

She didn't know how long he was gone. He came back with four men who fought her for Jaime. They couldn't take him, so he went to get six more. Two held her back - _Hyle? Pod?-_ while she watched Jaime hoisted away on the shoulders of armored men. They carried him upon their pauldrons. 

Her breath came hard and fast and she couldn't make sense of anything. It was all too hot and much too cold and everything spun. And they took Jamie upon their pauldrons. _The Stranger..._

The sky was dark. _Did not the sun just rise?_ And she collapsed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Saw this scene and had to write. It's one ending amongst many. Can be connected to Snow on the Bluff, The Prisoner's Dilemma, Fifty and Four Hundred Men, and A Love Like This.


End file.
